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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25925011">Seek</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_arksun/pseuds/d_arksun'>d_arksun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accordo Trip, Coming of Age, Dawn of the Future (Final Fantasy XV), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Roadtrip, but only the factual based stuff, ffxv timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:20:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25925011</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_arksun/pseuds/d_arksun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine pretending that everything is always okay while delaying the inevitable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarus Amicitia &amp; Weskham Armaugh &amp; Cor Leonis &amp; Regis Lucis Caelum &amp; Cid Sophiar, Mors Lucis Caelum &amp; Regis Lucis Caelum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. PART I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HARMONICSTRIFE/gifts">HARMONICSTRIFE</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi,,</p><p>I'm hoping to update more of this soon.</p><p>I'm trying to incorporate all the little neat facts and bits of information we were given for this boy, but I have to admit that sometimes it takes a toll on me when I don't necessarily know everything about the character I'm writing about.</p><p>I stick by saying that this man's had such a tragic life, and honestly that makes me wonder why we were never given an episode like we got for the others.</p><p>I love this sad kiddo , and you should, too.</p><p>This a gift for Harmonicstrife ^_^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He's only ten when he hears the rumors of a madman.</p><p>It's made apparent to his father, the king, that there's an imperial scientist who is trying to discover more of Eos's hidden truths. That he's using any means possible to gather information about the world, and in turn, use it against anyone he could.</p><p>It's threatening, and of course, it means severe lockdowns and a hell of a lot of security.</p><p>"Where do you think you're going, little one?" One of his preferred guards, if you will, steps in front of the doorway, blocking him from exiting.</p><p>It's quite the warm spring afternoon, just marking the end of April and entering early May.</p><p>The sun beats down heavier than it should, yet there are the delicate breezes blowing up someone's sleeves that'll be sure to leave goosebumps.</p><p>It's something someone'd have to experience <em>outside</em>, even if they'd have to lie for it.</p><p>"Father told me I could at least get something to read, you know," a young Regis gives a toothy grin. He's just now growing tall enough to be spotted easier, and it sucks.</p><p>Life is rough when you're ten.</p><p>"Is that so? Don't you have some books in <em>your room</em>, little prince?" The man delivers his words with no bite, and instead a playful tilt of the head. He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms.</p><p>Fiery green eyes lock back at the guard's intently, and for a while, a staring contest of sorts ensues.</p><p>Regis rolls his eyes and gives up the fight, pivoting on his foot and returning to his chambers. Small and hardly audible mumbles can be heard, "Not like I can find anything good to read in here," and "It was a stupid waste of time staring at you, anyways."</p><p>The man just laughs.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>Occasionally, there are bouts of time that Regis can spend with Mors.</p><p>Expectedly, it never goes well.</p><p>"So... Father— Did you hear about Clarus's new pet?" Regis tugs at the king's sleeve, gaining a cold look.</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>"I asked you a question," Regis decides to play this through, though he shouldn't.</p><p>"Well could you repeat it, Regis? I clearly didn't hear you," Mors huffs out a breath, looking back up at the skyline.</p><p>
  <em>"Or you're just ignoring me."</em>
</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"I said the flooring is beautiful to me."</p><p>"We're outside, Regis."</p><p>The prince stops walking, letting go of Mors's sleeve to process the fact that yes, they are in fact taking a walk at a park right outside the Citadel.</p><p>The <em>floor</em> is <em>grass.</em></p><p>"Hurry up and ask your question. I've got somewhere to be in about three minutes," his father turns to him after glancing quickly at his wrist, narrow-eyed and suddenly all the more intimidating. "What do you <em>want?"</em></p><p>It's said like it should hurt him. Maybe it does.</p><p>The prince swallows thickly, eyes wavering between the sidewalk and his father. His spirit along with the spring tulips, once blossoming, dies unceremoniously.</p><p>"Nevermind."</p><p>"I expect you to have your homework done before bed, so how about you go along to your quarters, now?"</p><p>"Yes, father."</p><p>
  <em>Clarus's parakeet's name is Ver, after the springtime.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>By the time the Crown Prince is thirteen, he's only just starting to grow into his own shoes.</p><p>Something's happened with the empire, is what he hears.</p><p>Their soldiers have spotted something in the west of Lucis, a place named the <em>Taelpar Crag</em>, and his father is slowly becoming more irate and difficult to please.</p><p>"I've been told you skipped out on a meal. Why haven't you finished eating your lunch, today?"</p><p>It's dinnertime, and today is considered <em>special</em> since the king and his son are to actually eat together.</p><p>"I haven't had the time to," Regis shrugs, taking a seat at the chair opposite the king's.</p><p>"You need to take better care of yourself," the king says with a grimace, bagged eyes scrutinizing Regis's unkempt hair and choice of clothing. </p><p><em>You're one to talk</em>, he wants to say.</p><p>"What are we having today?" He says instead.</p><p>"Food, eventually," Mors says with a hand to his chin.</p><p>"You're unbelievable," Regis mutters beneath his breath. "I want to spar with Clarus after dinner," he looks at his father in the eyes after speaking at a decent volume.</p><p>They're cold. Tired.</p><p>Mean.</p><p>"Regis, your shirt is much too large for you," Mors points at his dress shirt.</p><p>A subtle blush makes it's way across Regis's face.</p><p>He's just grown out of the previous size, yet the next size up <em>is</em> too large for a thirteen year old.</p><p>Regis, at this particular point, is a bit too small for his age.</p><p>Everything is damn awkward, and suddenly the prince is thankful his father doesn't bring up the slight cracks in his voice every now and then.</p><p>Clearing his throat, he starts, "Don't distract me. I'm going with Clarus to see the Crownsguard in action later. And then we're going to train together."</p><p>"If you aren't on your best behavior, Regis, I swear I'll—"</p><p>"I will be," he says it like it's a challenge.</p><p>"I'm sending Weskham along with you both, too."</p><p>"What? Why?" Regis scrunches his nose, holding back from turning his dining napkin into a paper glider, subconsciously aiming it right between Mors's eyes.</p><p>"Quit trying to threaten me, boy," it's as if his mind is read. "Because he'll keep you in line. <em>Both</em> of you. That Amicitia kid is—"</p><p>"You can trust Clarus. He's never done anything that would harm anyone. So, there isn't any reason you should be so, so– <em>judgmental</em>."</p><p>
  <em>"Regis!"</em>
</p><p>Mors's fist knocks the table too hard, and one of the guards posted beside the door flinches.</p><p>Regis doesn't.</p><p>Instead, he becomes incredibly crossed, brows furrowing deeper and hand clenching into a fist.</p><p>"What?" He says a bit too loudly.</p><p>"You'd better watch your tongue, Regis. Don't think I haven't noticed just how much you have been talking back to me," Mors gives his son a violent glare, voice slowly climbing in volume.</p><p>"I'm <em>just saying</em> you shouldn't be too hard on him. You specifically <em>assigned</em> Lord Amicitia's son to be my shield, so why don't you expect the best of him?"</p><p>"It isn't what I think of him as your shield. It's merely the fact that he's only some years older than you, that I need someone more responsible to be around you two. At all times," he snaps.</p><p>"Weskham is younger than Clarus!"</p><p>"But highly more regarded across the Citadel, Regis. You <em>both</em> need to grow up and stop being such immature children when you are the future king and shield of Lucis!</p><p>"Enough of your childish nonsense!" The king takes a pause before growling, "Talking with you is ridiculous," he massages his temples. "You understand <em>nothing</em>, sometimes, Six!"</p><p>All that has built up comes crashing right back down.</p><p>Regis's heart is thrumming in his chest. Maybe it's pounding too much that it reverberates through his ears and into his head.</p><p>And maybe his vision is started to cloud with something. Something that wets his lashes and tightens his throat.</p><p>Regis wipes his tears with his sleeve, and ups and storms out of the dining hall, despite the protests of several guards.</p><p>Turns out he skips both lunch and dinner in one day, but he never decides to complain.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>A year passes, and the prince's hair grows slightly longer below his ears. He's grown a few inches taller, and his clothes fit a tiny bit less awkwardly.</p><p>His voice still cracks, nearly all the time, and his youthful green eyes grow more curious yet masked with each passing day.</p><p>It's freezing outside, but the prince still manages to sneak in extra time alone in the courtyard.</p><p>A flake of snow lands on the tip of his reddened nose, and his eyes water from a gust of wind.</p><p>"Hey, prince," a familiar voice jests, coming his way through the thickness of the snow.</p><p>A small smile slips over Regis's lips, and he stifles a laugh, "You look ridiculous."</p><p>"It's cold. What'd you expect me to do? Least I won't freeze like you," Clarus takes a seat on the bench beside Regis, fingers adjusting the scarf around his neck.</p><p>His hair is short, and he's wearing a knitted hat to keep his head warm. A large fluffly coat conceals his growing muscles, and the nineteen year old Amicitia decides he hates winter more than anything.</p><p>Regis laughs, and it's actually wholesome. </p><p>Real.</p><p>"You're early today," Regis pokes at the future shield's pom-pom at the crown of his head.</p><p>"Didn't have anywhere else to be," Clarus sighs, his breath is delivered through wisps in the brittle air.</p><p>"Well, we have about a half hour before we're bound to be caught out here."</p><p>"You know, I miss Ver," Clarus frowns, mourning the loss of his parakeet.</p><p>"Me too," Regis's lips curve down, and he lets a silence overtake them.</p><p>The air, it's quiet. The thick speckles of white falling from heavy clouds absorb all of the sound.</p><p>"Did you hear about the Empire?" Clarus turns to Regis with stern blue eyes.</p><p>"That depends. I may have only read one report," Regis gives a crooked smile.</p><p>Clarus snorts, and then musses up the prince's hair, earning a laugh. "I mean about Ravatogh?"</p><p>The look Clarus is given reminds him of when the prince forgets to do an important assignment— on the day it's due.</p><p>Clarus shakes his head and supresses a laugh, "Apparently they've found something at the Rock of Ravatogh, and rumors say it's an Astral. A <em>damn Astral</em>! Can you believe it?"</p><p>Regis's eyes widen, and he shivers; unable to tell if it's from the cold or the mention of the Empire. "And what if it <em>is</em> an Astral?"</p><p>A pause.</p><p>Quiet, and chilled.</p><p>Clarus furrows his brows, hand landing on the the other's shoulder. "Well, it's not our job to worry about— yet."</p><p>Regis looks as if he's weighing his options. "What do you think is going to happen now? I mean... Father, he— well," he collects his thoughts.</p><p>"What is it? You know you can tell me," Clarus offers a sympathetic smile.</p><p>"D'you think father will be okay?"</p><p>
  <em>Clarus wonders why Regis would still even care, considering the king never once did anything loving for his own son. But he decides to let it go.</em>
</p><p>"He'll be okay, Reg. It's <em>okay</em>."</p><p>Regis keeps his eyes, full of concern, locked with the other's for a moment too long. Watery-eyed from the crisp temperature, he blinks and diverts his attention to the blank white ground with an unsure grin.</p><p>"I'm sure you're right," the prince closes his eyes, and sighs through his nose.</p><p>
  <em>"It's quite cold out here, isn't it?"</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>Fifteen years old isn't old at all.</p><p>In fact, it's only a time where someone can find out truly how young they really are. Young and free of (some) responsibilities.</p><p>Responsibilities like dealing with ancient rumors and unreliable sources and evidence of break-ins.</p><p>King Mors released classified information to the Crownsguard, and word gets out around the Citadel pretty quickly.</p><p>Members of the Lucian Army were sent out only days ago to retrieve the trespassers at the forbidden <em>Angelgard</em>, but none of them returned home.</p><p>So it turns out there's this man by the name of <em>Adagium</em> who took them all out, and proceeded to make due with the Empire at his side.</p><p>King Mors is afraid, even if he doesn't let it show through his thick skin.</p><p>"How am I supposed to finish all of this by the evening?" Regis tosses himself on his bed, and his words come out muffled and incoherent.</p><p>His pencil and a few sheets of free loose-leaf fly off his desk, scattering haphazardly on the ground.</p><p>"I hope you're planning on picking that all up," Weskham sighs. And he's so, <em>inexplicably</em> tired.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Regis, you're fifteen years old and perfectly capable," Weskham sits up anyways, and starts collecting the sheets from the ground with both hands.</p><p>Regis flips over onto his back. "It's nice to have you around here, but not when you tell me what to do."</p><p>"Isn't that my job, highness?"</p><p>"Well, I'm not paying you."</p><p>Weskham chuckles, stacking the papers neatly on the prince's desk. "I suppose not."</p><p>"Well, I ought to finish before <em>father goes and makes a scene</em>," Regis mimicks the king's typical vexed expression before he bursts out into laughter.</p><p>But then his voice cracks and his ears burn a bright red. He frowns and rolls away on his bed with a groan, pulling the covers above his head.</p><p>Weskham can't contain a laugh of his own before shaking his head. "No, enough. Do your homework, Regis."</p><p>The prince rises from his bed, duvet pooling beside him. "But I've been working for approximately six hours," he says matter-of-factly. And it's true. He hasn't even been given a single break.</p><p>"I know," Weskham's lips thin into a line. "But I'm here to make sure you finish it all. I'm sorry."</p><p>Regis stares at him incredulously for too many passing seconds.</p><p>"No. You aren't," the playful lilt to his voice dies out, and he returns to his desk after straightening up his bed once more.</p><p>Without another word, Regis flies through his math homework, and only then Weskham quirks his head to one side to realize just how tall his prince has gotten.</p><p>His hair actually grew a smidgen longer after it's trim only a few months ago, and it almost winds beneath his ears with it's smooth texture. His fringe, normally split and distributed into a third is now messy with strands of hair curling out of place and in front of his face.</p><p>Regis fits into his dress shirts a lot easier now, and it's rare that Weskham has to sew, cut, and make adjustments to the buttons or the collar or even <em>Weskham, why don't you just trim the entire bottom piece off so it looks like I've grown!</em></p><p>Through it all, it seems as though one thing remains set in stone: Regis's determination to please his father.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>One year zips by and nothing much changes around the Citadel.</p><p>However around the <em>following</em> winter, Regis is called into a impromptu meeting of sorts. And while the seventeen year old is on his way to the briefing, his heart can't help but beat faster and harder than it regularly does.</p><p>The look on the king's face when he enters lets him know that something is wrong.</p><p>Very wrong.</p><p>"Your highness, you can take a seat over here," His (favorite) guard lays a hand on the back of a chair. The man is much older now, and his eyes tell all the stories of trouble and mischief from the prince. Regis quietly thanks him with a feigned smile. </p><p>The Crown Prince's voice is much deeper now, although on occasion there are still— oddly— cracks. He is nearing 176 centimeters, and Clarus still has the gall to call him short.</p><p>"Do you know why you are here, Regis?" Mors sounds exhausted, yet can never put on a smile of sorts, even for his own son.</p><p>"I do not," Regis's eyes land on the floor, tracing the pattern he finds repeatedly.</p><p>"Have you heard of Magitek Technology?" Mors directs this queston at everyone, including the prince.</p><p>No one dares speak a word.</p><p>King Mors grows more frustrated, clenching his hand around sheets of paper in a manila folder. "This isn't a game, but it seems as if I'm playing one," he mutters.</p><p>It stays quiet, and Regis knows that eyes are on him now.</p><p>"Regis, no more <em>bullshit</em>. You are to report here every work day from now on. Understood?" Mors practically growls at the boy with a look of disgust.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>
  <em>"Yes?"</em>
</p><p>"I understand, father."</p><p>"You'd better."</p><p>A silence itches it's way around the dimly lit hall.</p><p>King Mors continues his briefing, but does not take his eyes off of his son.</p><p>Regis doesn't break the contact, either, glaring at the king the entirety of the meeting.</p><p>
  <em>"Magiteks are what we are up against. Not people. Besithia's been busy these past some years, and we've been on our asses like fools.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>These next coming years are unforseeable, but I'm certain one thing remains clear:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Niflheim is growing an army."</em>
</p><p>Regis wakes up that night from a horrifying nightmare. He has no one to turn to, and instead buries his head in his knees after wiping red and swollen eyes, and he trembles until he's asleep again.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>The next morning he's on the training grounds with Clarus. Wesk's there, too.</p><p>They've become a trio, and often stick together.</p><p>"There he is!" Regis not-so-subtly directs everyone's attention at a man wearing a cap and a uniform.</p><p>The blonde man stands, eyes narrowing at Regis, who raises his eyebrows in confusion.</p><p>"Idiot," Clarus snorts, weakly punching Regis in the arm.</p><p>"Highness, while I have to say that it is strange this man comes by just to <em>criticize us with his eyes sometimes</em>," it's as ridiculous said now as the first time the prince explained it himself. "I don't think he means any harm."</p><p>"Isn't he a janitor or something?" Clarus turns to Weskham.</p><p>"Well I don't think he—"</p><p>Weskham interrupts the prince without a second thought, "He definitely works with vehicles, considering the toolbox he carried in just the other day. He resembles something of a mechanic."</p><p>"Cid Sophiar," the man finally approaches them, much to their surprise, and Regis jolts out of his own skin. "You got a lot of cars 'round here? This city's damn huge." </p><p>The man extends a hand and Weskham shakes it. "I need somethin' to fix if you're willin' to pay."</p><p>Regis blinks, unfamiliar with his accent.</p><p>"We do indeed," Weskham smiles.</p><p>"Something to fix?" Clarus repeats. "How about starting with this one's driving skills?" He hands Regis over by giving him a hearty push.</p><p>Regis turns around and glowers at him.</p><p>"We're trying to teach him how to drive, but it doesn't seem... <em>possible</em> anymore," Weskham pinches the bridge of his nose.</p><p>"I'm right here, you know!"</p><p>"Oh, I think they know," Cid flicks his cap with a cheeky grin.</p><p>Regis wants to go back to bed.</p><p>"And anyways, I ain't havin' you crash any car of mine," Cid shakes his head.</p><p>Weskham and Cid absorb themselves in a conversation on car anatomy, and Regis turns to Clarus like he's a small kitten that's been left on the side of the road for forty-eight-and-a-half days.</p><p>"Want something to eat? We've been here a while," Clarus tries extremely hard not to poke the prince's sulking face.</p><p>"No."</p><p>There's an ephemeral moment of louring between the two.</p><p>"<em>Obviously</em>," Regis says like it's expected of him. "I've been here with you two for hours. I'm sweaty and starving."</p><p>The prince walks off without waiting for anyone to follow, obnoxiously shutting the training room door with a thud.</p><p>Clarus turns back to find Wesk and Cid observing silently, and he nods his head if only to prevent a bubbling laugh.</p><p>"Cid, <em>his royal highness</em>."</p><p><br/>
<br/>
 </p><p>Seasons pass, and it's finally the prince's birthday: The one day in the year where he feels like he can enjoy himself, and indulge in as much birthday cake as he likes.</p><p>This particular one should have more cake, because it's a known fact that eighteen year old boys should eat until they're sick.</p><p>It's not like anything's ever planned for him on his birthdays, anyway.</p><p>He stirs awake when rays of sunlight burn through his lids, beckoning him to the real world, away from sleep.</p><p>With a groan, Regis stretches his limbs and slides off the bed, proceeding to get dressed. However, as Regis's feet hit the floor, he slips and loses his balance. His eyes widen, but it's too late to stagger the fall.</p><p>He hits the ground, <em>hard</em>, and lets out a small cry before sitting up and rubbing the spot above his eye and nursing his shoulder.</p><p>"Your highness? Is- Is everything alright in there?"</p><p><em>Great</em>. </p><p>Apparently it was just loud enough to perturb the guard right outside his chambers, and draw  unwanted attention.</p><p>"I'm fine," he grunts, standing back up after a brief dizzy spell and warily making his way over to the closet.</p><p>He throws on a new button-up that he'd decided to save for his birthday, and then ruffles his dark locks with one hand.</p><p>After tightening his belt, he takes a deep breath and a sip of water from the bottle on his dresser, wincing at the slight sting in his shoulder when he lifts his arm.</p><p>Minutes later, the prince deems himself presentable and exits the room followed by a suspicious and rightfully concerned guard. </p><p>"Prince Regis," a man's voice calls out his name from behind.</p><p>Regis whips around to be met with one his father's best friends, and loyal protector.</p><p>"What is it?" he subconsciously rubs his eye from where he hit the ground earlier.</p><p>"Your father needs you in his chambers."</p><p>And then Cor.</p><p>Cor Leonis, the youngest Crownsguard in history, age thirteen, is standing in front of him with a hard stare.</p><p>"Is this some kind of joke?" Regis disregards the boy standing at the other end of the room, aiming a violent scowl at the king.</p><p>"You are in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do, Regis," Mors copies the same look back at his son.</p><p>"How could you use a child for your own selfish needs? Father, He's <em>only thirteen!</em>" Regis finally meets Cor's gaze, and the boy just shrugs his shoulders before greeting him.</p><p>"Your highness," the Leonis boy takes a subtle bow, and Regis looks back at him like he's just kicked a puppy.</p><p>"Father," his voice cracks and he winces, softening it before losing control of it. "Father, <em>please</em>, you musn't get too ahead of yourself with all of this. You already have a shield! What purpose does he serve if not to be your most loyal?"</p><p>"Do you know what Niflheim is capable of, Regis?" The king tilts his head and observes his son's desperate posture. "Do you know that they're closing in with their new Infantry, and there isn't a thing I can think of to fix all this? Or are you too blind to realize just how old I am really becoming?</p><p>"Something has been brewing for the past couple of years, Regis. I don't need you to inform me on how I can choose to help myself."</p><p>"What- What does that have to do with any of this? I <em>apologize</em>, but this boy doesn't deserve to babysit you, father."</p><p>The king's face is set in a grimace.</p><p>"Do me a favor for the next hour or so, Regis, and please leave my room," The king sighs heavily, washing over his face with his two hands. "I can't deal with you today."</p><p>Today is.</p><p>
  <em>Today—</em>
</p><p>Regis doesn't hear the crack from his final heartbreak, but he feels the pieces of his heart scatter, then harden.</p><p>He doesn't even realize he's crying until Cor awkwardly clears his throat and lowers his head.</p><p>"Thanks, a lot," he whispers before leaving the room, not even in a storm, but rather in the quietest manner he's ever been.</p><p>
  <em>Happy fucking birthday.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>"What's wrong? I even got a damn lemon cake for you," Cid gives the prince a gentle nudge.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"You mean the cake that I baked," Weskham corrects him with a pointed finger.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."</p><p>"Seriously, are you okay, Regis?" Clarus frowns and takes a seat on the opposite side of Regis on the park bench.</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>Green eyes are blank, devoid of all thought. His jaw is set, and his expression doesn't give anything away.</p><p>"You haven't even touched your cake. Let alone smiled once since you've been here. I don't think that's a very solid definition of fine," Clarus informs him without any chide.</p><p>"Did somethin' happen?" Cid helps himself to a second piece of lemon cake.</p><p>Regis hesitates, "No." He starts fidgeting with his sleeves, eyes unsure, averting all gazes.</p><p>The other three exchange glances with each other before they all turn back to their prince.</p><p>"What happened?" Clarus jumps straight into it, immediately regretting it as the boy before him flinches.</p><p>"Nothing happened," he says. Yet there's a slight force driving his words that no one cares to point out, if they notice.</p><p>It goes quiet, and Cid even sets aside his cake, half-eaten.</p><p>"N-<em>nothing, happened—</em>" he repeats. There's a crack in his voice, and the three look at him with worried, dubious looks.</p><p>Clarus can hear the shatter of his heart as the younger finally breaks.</p><p>Regis curls in on himself, and Weskham immediately retracts the prince's birthday cake so his head doesn't land smack in the middle of it.</p><p>Fragmented sobs fill the courtyard, and the boys do their best to comfort him.</p><p>Clarus takes the initiative, <em>longest-known friend and all</em>, and wraps Regis in a protective embrace.</p><p>Weskham attempts to quiet him and whisper all the reassurances that he really does need to hear. </p><p>And Cid idly sits next to him, but not a moment goes by where he isn't wondering just why a prince would need to cry like this— on his birthday of all days. His bemused expression says enough.</p><p>Regis buries his head in the crook of the taller's neck, further loosening himself as his sobs lessen.</p><p>Clarus's hand gently runs through the prince's hair, and he takes a deep breath, watching as Weskham offers him an apologetic look.</p><p>Cid huffs out a breath, and scratches his nape.</p><p>Regis suddenly stiffens, pulling back and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I—" he pauses. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"Don't be," Clarus smiles softly. "You deserve a break, too, you know."</p><p>"Yeah, you are human, ain't ya?" Cid quirks an eyebrow, then grins.</p><p>"I just," the prince shuts his eyes, breathing easier than before. "I'm sorry. I don't– know..."</p><p>"C'mon," Weskham abruptly leaps out of his seat. "Let's go find something that we can all do to cheer you up. It's still your birthday, you know."</p><p>"I suppose," Regis gives a disbelieving grin.</p><p>Clarus takes his hand and lifts him to his feet before dropping it. "We can talk about this later?" It's less of a question and more of a <em>yes, we are going to talk about this because I am your best friend and deserve to know what's been bothering you</em>.</p><p>Regis nods, sniffling softly. His eyes fall over to the cake.</p><p>"Guess lemon is unlucky after all," is what he says.</p><p>"I'll try blueberry next time," Weskham sing-songs, following Cid out of the courtyard.</p><p>Regis turns to Clarus for a brief moment, uncertain, and he worries at his bottom lip for a moment.</p><p>The future shield's puzzled, that is, until he's given a quick hug and a warm smile that damn well pieces his heart back together.</p><p>...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Part II is ready as of December, but I'm editing a bit more to condense some of the timeline before the actual visit.</p><p>I'm also resisting the urge to put self-depreciating comments about my writing here so, yup.</p><p>Thank you to whoever reads this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. PART II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>M.E. 724.</p><p>After approximately half of a year, the group of five get by reasonably well, with all despite the relentless training in a day-to-day progression; the prince's form is considerably more apt and corrected than it was previously, though the process has been tiresome.</p><p>He's composed in combat, but is almost always thrown off by his shield's lunge-based attacks. It's surmised that what he lacks is swiftness, especially in his footwork. Not terrible, not too great. But they work on it.</p><p>Weskham begrudgingly writes these notes to present to his father, regardless of his highness's frequent protests.</p><p>"Your majesty, I do regret to inform you of this information," Weskham says one morning in the sweltering heat. They've spent the previous evening in practice.</p><p>"Our adversaries will not stall simply because my son happens to do so. Surely he must work harder than this," Mors replies. He looks like he's worn quite thin, to the brink of impatience. Though, Weskham has to say he looks a little better physically after the wall incident.</p><p>"I can assure you that he works awfully hard, your majesty," Weskham glances away with the points of his lips sinking. "I don't suppose pushing him any further would do him any good at the moment. Perhaps you could resonate with him?"</p><p>"You do not heed my words, young Armaugh?" There isn't much room for arguing, and it's probably never a good idea to do that during an impending war. To a king, nonetheless.</p><p>"My apologies, Your majesty. I digress. I will do only as you ask," Weskham sighs, exiting the room with thoughts running through his head like clockwork. The usual.</p><p>It's criticisms like those that are increasingly common nowadays. One could say it's the paranoia of a father, but others could say it's just plain ridicule.</p><p>But today, everyone is exhausted. They've taken it upon themselves to wake up extra early so that they can <em>finish</em> their session <em>just as early.</em></p><p>"Regis, you need to stop falling for that," Clarus explains, demonstrating his new posture for the next round of explanations. "It's <em>meant</em> to trick you."</p><p>The five of them devise new skirmish techniques daily; spending the vast majority of their time in preparation for the trip. After all, six months seems like so little time in tandem with everyday activities.</p><p>"It's not that easy."</p><p>"Just focus," the older explains, taking another swing at their prince.</p><p>It's hardly impeded, <em>but it's not something to be worried about,</em> Weskham thinks, however he continues to document the progress in front of him.</p><p>He takes a quick count of how many hours they should spend training for the rest of this week, noting that the weekend seems to be some small delight as they get to relax. Just a bit, at least.</p><p>But something crosses his mind just as Cid falls to the ground with a huff, wiping his face and staring at the youngest bemusedly; likely not able to win against the Leonis boy.</p><p>
  <em>Founder's Day.</em>
</p><p>It's his job to help prepare them after all, though this year in particular stands out, what with the entirety of Insomnia on higher patrol than ever. </p><p>They just <em>happened</em> to miss a sighting of Adagium a few months ago; and the best part is that he was in the throne room <em>alongside</em> his majesty King Mors, who nearly blockaded every entrance and exit in the city when he found out.</p><p>"You all are aware that Founder's Day is upcoming, yes?" Weskham wonders aloud.</p><p>"What does that matter right now? Little busy here, Wesk," the shield says, easily managing to sidestep a swing for his torso. He counters.</p><p>"Well, it's only that we should... prepare," it isn't lost on him that the others all but burn fire into him just with a look. "For anything," he adds, a little quieter. </p><p>"Quit distracting me," the young royal takes a mighty effort backwards, nearly tripping over the mat beneath his own two feet.</p><p>"What's so important about it right now anyway?" Cor looks inquisitively at Weskham. "It isn't like it's different from last year. It's just a party," he says.</p><p>"It is a celebration, yes," Weskham faces the youngest. "However, this year there have been many reports at hand already, and not to mention ones including the possibility of Adagium—"</p><p>The clash of weapons reverberates in the hall. Luminescent crystals of blue linger and suddenly all attention lies on the advisor.</p><p>"That's enough, Weskham," the prince says without malice, flicking his novel engine blade out of sight in a flurry of blues. "Please."</p><p>"But have you read your reports, highness?"</p><p>"I've kept busy."</p><p>There's a striking tension gnawing at everyone in the room, and it suddenly becomes too awkward to stay quiet or to say anything at all.</p><p>"I apologize if my timing is a little inconvenient," Weskham looks down at the mats sternly before meeting the eyes of the other. "But this isn't something we can just ignore. He poses a great threat to the city, and to you and your father. We need to be prepared."</p><p>Instead of saying anything, it's evident that Regis is uncomfortable, judging by the timid sharpening of his posture. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't look at the advisor either.</p><p>"Wesk," Cid breaks the silence. "It's alright, man. We know that already."</p><p>Clarus slumps to the ground beside the eldest with a contemplative expression. He looks lost in thought for a brief moment until he snaps his attention back to Weskham.</p><p>"Regis, like I said before, I'm sorry to bring it up. However this is something bigger than all of us. And if he really is coming back then—"</p><p>"What, then my father will die this time? He'll kill more of our soldiers than he did before?"</p><p>There's venom in his words, and he finally decides the time is suitable to face the older man.</p><p>"I never said—"</p><p>"You didn't have to. I know <em>exactly</em> what you meant," the prince drives a baleful stare in Weskham's direction. "I don't need you to remind me of what he's been doing. He could have murdered my father that day, and I <em>know that.</em></p><p>"He can pretend to be anyone in this whole city, and I <em>know that, too,</em>" he takes a step closer to the other. "Do you think I'm that <em>spineless</em> that I wouldn't want to think of any way possible to protect <em>everyone that I can?</em>" He takes another step.</p><p>"Hey," someone pipes up, but it mostly goes unheard. "Wait a second—"</p><p>Regis looks like he's about twelve seconds away from shoving the Armaugh through the wall; ignoring the muffled protests from the others at the back of his head.</p><p>"I need to spend my time in <em>preparation—?</em>" he laughs borderline hysterically. "The wall's been scaled back to only Insomnia, Weskham. Do you know why that is?"</p><p>"I do, highness. But you need to calm down and think straight right now," Weskham answers hesitantly, however he stands his ground. His back is mere inches from the wall, yet his feet are glued in place. "<em>Please.</em>"</p><p>"I finally think that," he always hates it when his voice breaks like this. He never wants it to.</p><p>Father always tells him it's not dignified of someone in his position.</p><p>"I <em>am</em> thinking straight for once. He's going to die— He's going to die. I know that. <em>I know.</em> But," the prince pierces a look through the other. "I just don't want to hear you talk about how we're all damned by this. Damned by <em>everything!</em>"</p><p>"Regis, please," Weskham raises his hands defensively, frowning at the younger. "I'm not trying to make you feel anything like that."</p><p>There's a brief silence.</p><p>The other three dare not to make a move or a sound. Anything could easily shatter the looming resolution forming between them all.</p><p>"I— Well," Regis pauses and takes a couple steps backward, inhaling and exhaling sharply with a cold sort of laugh. "It's nothing that can be changed, anyway."</p><p>It's all he says before he simply leaves the four of them forlorn in their thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Cid can always count on himself to locate their prince, especially during a time burgeoning with stress and tensity.</p><p>So, when the moon is high in the sky, he invites Clarus, for his own better judgement, to the vessel drifting motionlessly on the sea. The Lucian Sound isn't far away from the Citadel. Precisely no less than a half hour trip. </p><p>It isn't a farfetched idea either, considering the eldest had found him up here not too long ago.</p><p>"Does he always come up here?"</p><p>The younger of the two yawns, hardly capable of concealing his drowsiness. After waking up unexpectedly from a certain loudmouthed blonde, he figures that he should consider a form of payback. Soon, surely.</p><p>"Yeah, s'ppose he does," Cid motions over the stern, heading over on steady feet. There's a shaded spot underneath the main deck, and then a small arrangement of pillowed benches that are hardly visible if it weren't for a dimmed light to aid them.</p><p>There they find a sleeping prince, covered in a thin layer of blanket in the heat of the summer night.</p><p>The eldest takes a seat on the edge of the bench, beckoning Clarus over. "If I do it, he's got it a lot worse."</p><p>The Amicitia slowly approaches the resting figure to wake him, and of course it's to no avail. Never is on the first six attempts at the very least. "Hey, wake up. It's time to get up, come on."</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"Regis, come on," Clarus eventually settles a hand on the younger's shoulder, gently shaking him awake.</p><p>The prince groans, shaking his head and curling in on himself further. "<em>Mm? ...ten more minutes,</em>" he mumbles something of the sort, and it's hardly audible.</p><p>The shield stifles a smile. "No, <em>now.</em> Up."</p><p>Cid grins anyway.</p><p>Minutes later, the prince looks a little less dazed with sleep and a lot more alert of his surroundings.</p><p>"It's a little chilly up here, no?" Clarus raises a brow. "You've slept here before?"</p><p>"Yes," he looks like he's been caught stealing rather than sleeping. "And yes."</p><p>"Say, I know your dad got you this ship for the trip and all that, but it <em>is</em> pretty damn nice," Cid takes an extra second to appreciate the vessel.</p><p>Regis only gives him an awkward smile, the tips of his ears still red and warm from sleep.</p><p>"When are we movin' it to Caem?"</p><p>"Likely soon."</p><p>"Yeah, figures as much," the eldest's eyes travel in astonishment across the different areas of the vessel.</p><p>"So, um," the shield starts hesitantly. "Wesk wants you to know that he apologizes. You know, for all that earlier," Clarus watches the young prince's face fall.</p><p>"I... I know."</p><p>"Well, are you okay?" Clarus suppresses the need to yawn.</p><p>"I'm fine," his expression is neutral, but he looks exhausted, and not just because the other two perturbed the beginning of his incredibly long sleep cycle.</p><p>"You don't seem fine," Cid interjects. "We were kinda worried. Just a little though, so don't get too excited. But we haven't seen you all day."</p><p>"I, er... Sorry," he makes a face. "I guess I just needed a little time for myself to cool off, but I must've fallen asleep," he rubs at the nape of his neck sheepishly.</p><p>"Did you have anything to eat?" Clarus furrows his brows questioningly.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Damn brat, you are. That's for sure," Cid shakes his head with a sigh. "Let's go get you somethin' to eat then," he offers.</p><p>"I'm fine, really. I suppose I'd just like to get more sleep," the prince waves his hands in front of him, denying the other's offer. "You don't have to do anything like that."</p><p>"Like what? You mean feed you?" Clarus snorts. "Wow, you don't know how to take care of yourself at all."</p><p>Regis narrows his eyes at his shield. "I do too."</p><p>The shield looks willfully unimpressed, but he doesn't press on it. Instead he crosses his arms and tilts his head in the direction of the stern. "Let's get going."</p><p>Reluctantly, the prince manages to return to the Citadel a little later in the night, however he's nearly stopped from entering his chamber by a quick-moving figure in the dark. The voice certainly recognizable.</p><p>
  <em>"Hey, what do you think you're—"</em>
</p><p>"Cor?" Clarus raises a brow.</p><p>"Damn kid," Cid hisses with a hand clutching his chest. "Do you mind not killin' us?"</p><p>"Where have you guys been? I've had to look everywhere for you," Cor protests with discomposure.</p><p>"They were with me outside," the prince counters easily. He slides past the youngest and slips into his bedroom.</p><p>Cor looks to the others for a helpful explanation, ignoring the nonchalance he should probably be used to by now from the Lucian family.</p><p>The shield only gives him a small smile and wishes them all a goodnight, though it's way past the time for that. Cid follows, not too long behind.</p><p>Cor stands there confoundedly for too long, before he gets to bed himself with a reminder that he should ask his majesty for a raise.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Departure.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>M.E. 725</p><p>"Like hell I'm lettin' him drive again," Cid huffs out a breath, reappearing from beneath the Regalia. His face has smeared oil from the unforeseen repair all over it.</p><p>"It wasn't as bad as you think," is his only defense.</p><p>"Say that to the extensive damage all over your  precious car," Weskham says, stuffing his hands in his pockets for warmth. "Remind you, it's new."</p><p>"<em>And custom,</em>" Cid mutters.</p><p>Cor gives Cid a towel to wipe his face clean. "How much longer will he take? I'm starving," the youngest laments for his ravenous stomach.</p><p>It's a shame that they're in such far, but possible, walking distance from the nearest place to grab lunch. Hence why they've sent the shield to do just that strenuous job.</p><p>"It's quite the long walk," the prince points out. "But now he should be back in ten minutes or so," he checks his phone before sliding it back into his coat pocket.</p><p>Unlike before, now he has the time to check it, to <em>use</em> it, especially when they find themselves in trifling matters such as these.</p><p>"I'm freezing," the ends of the youngest's lips turn downward, almost in a sulk.</p><p>"We got it, Cor. We're cold and hungry," Weskham sighs frustratedly.</p><p>"Thank his royal pain in the ass," Cid says gruffly, sliding back underneath the car.</p><p>The prince only turns away with an eye roll. He can clearly see the faintest outline of the crowncity within driving distance, and he winces noting that he really didn't drive far at all.</p><p>It's not like it's his fault that the car just spun on it's own, all he did was try and navigate the new highway route, then suddenly his hands slipped and the car had a mind of its own.</p><p>He's thankful, if anything, that it wasn't as dire as the eldest is sure making it out to be. They're okay, and that should be what matters... <em>right?</em></p><p>"Hey, you're back early," he hears Weskham say. He whips around to find his shield, looking as cold as death, holding a few bags of food.</p><p>"Well don't you look awful," he says, restraining himself from smiling or laughing. Or both.</p><p>"Appreciate it," the other says, letting his breath come out in wisps in the cold air. "Now eat. I didn't rush over here as fast as I could just for you to <em>compliment</em> me."</p><p>That has his highness laughing.</p><p>Weskham clicks his tongue and gives Clarus the scarf that was around his neck. "You probably need it more than I do."</p><p>"Gee, you're a lifesaver," he says, but he never puts it on.</p><p>The group of five wrap up their meal in the car as soon as the eldest makes sure it's fully functional once more, but not before making certain that there isn't a scrap of food anywhere in the interior, as per the order of their prince.</p><p>He figures that keeping the inside tidy is the least he can do after already battering it on the outside.</p><p>Cid leaves the car abruptly while they clean, and Regis follows him out of sheer curiosity. The blonde makes a stop at the trunk shooing the younger away, but it's not like that's ever stopped him before.</p><p>Cid turns away and then walks off grumpily when he sees the other right behind him.</p><p>They're now up by the one abandoned structure in the empty lot of land they've parked at.</p><p>"Why are you out here? It's freezing," the young royal asks the eldest, crossing his arms.</p><p>"I just wanted to give you a little somethin' I guess," he says. He turns around with a small box in his hands.</p><p>So, the thing he tried (and failed) to hide while at the trunk before.</p><p>"It's not even my birthday," the prince responds  in a cheeky manner. "Am I allowed to open it?"</p><p>"Well, duh," Cid tries to be sincere but the attempt dies with his disgruntled expression.</p><p>There's a card at the top, and the prince squints while he opens it. It reads:</p><p>
  <em>You're probably gonna need this again real soon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>Hbd.</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>-Cid.</em>
</p><p>He can't help but smile as he then lifts a familiar hammer out of the box. All shiny and without a dot of grime.</p><p>"Happy early birthday," the blonde crosses his arms now. "You're a shitty driver."</p><p>The younger can't even find himself offended by the comment, too caught up on the humor of the gift itself.</p><p>"Thanks," he barely refrains from laughing.</p><p>"You got it. Now let's get back in the car before I freeze my ass off," Cid turns away towards the Regalia. "And no, don't think you're gonna be drivin' anytime soon."</p><p>"I wasn't planning on it."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Two weeks later, he turns nineteen.</p><p>They're at a lodging in Duscae, and it's still cold. In the bright, early hours of morning, they wake him up with a small birthday cake that they shared the effort in making. It's safe to eat at least.</p><p>The day is mostly spent on opposite sides of the spectrum: with learning intel about what's going on at home on one hand, and actually enjoying the insignificant portions of the day filled with a lot more talking and only a little bit of headache. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Caem is beautiful.</p><p>Maybe that's an understatement. But it's so perfectly shrouded in trees and shrubs and greenery that when the sunlight filters through the leaves near the evening, it's almost a surreal painting rather than a view.</p><p>His highness finds that it's a complete flip from the crowncity. Not to say he isn't thinking about home anymore, he certainly is, but sometimes he only chooses to think of where he is now. It helps him forget about what's to come.</p><p>In addition, he doesn't particularly long to be back.</p><p>It's quite the nice hideout and he can't complain. With the setting sun and the warm breezes entering through the window of the lodge, the prince finds this is too easy a spot to doze off. Thankfully, he doesn't.</p><p>There are more important matters he's thinking about right now.</p><p>In the moment, they're preparing to soon set off on the water. The party seems to be held in high esteem over in Accordo, and it only makes him more anxious.</p><p>On top of that, his father's physical health drains through the life of the wall, more and more with each passing day. Not enough to be worried, but still noticeable.</p><p>The thought makes his throat tighten.</p><p>"Hey, you okay?"</p><p>He's grateful to the others for always sticking their noses in at the exact moments where he needs it most.</p><p>His shield is there, as he always is, studying him intently and dutifully awaiting a response. It takes roughly a minute before he fully comprehends that he's being talked to.</p><p>"I'm alright," he says, turning his attention back out the window.</p><p>"We've figured out how to use the stove now, if you want anything," the Amicitia practically bleeds a grin through his words.</p><p>A few wiring malfunctions later, the kitchen is deemed usable. Only for practical meals, though, so nothing out of the ordinary. Cid's blood, sweat, and possibly tears went into fixing the electricity in the rundown hideaway, so the least they can do is smile to show some sort of admiration.</p><p>"I'll be there soon. Just another minute," the prince says wistful smile.</p><p>"No need to be such a recluse, <em>highness,</em>" Clarus takes the chair beside him, and he looks out the window, too. "What's on your mind?"</p><p>"Tch, I said I'll go," the younger says with an eyeroll. "Just a minute or two more," the sun peaks through the leaves, straight into his eyes so that they slightly begin to water.</p><p>"Well, I get it. It does feel great out today," the shield starts, eyes on nothing but the sea surrounding the Cape. "But you ignored my question."</p><p>"How do you expect me to answer that?" He gives a hollow laugh.</p><p>He's given a pensive look, filled with sheer sympathy. "You have a point, there. But honestly," Clarus places a hand on his shoulder. "You should feel a little better than this right now. This stuffy room isn't doing you any good."</p><p>"It's not that bad."</p><p>The older clicks his tongue. "And you say that about everything. Come on, everybody's downstairs."</p><p>He's dragged away by the other, but for once, right now, it doesn't feel as suffocating as he once did think.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I never intended the updates to take this long, but I do believe they should be coming a bit faster following this one.</p><p>It's pretty hard to create personality in these characters sometimes since we aren't really given a whole lot. It makes ya sort of lose motivation sometimes, but I actually want to finish this because it's enjoyable to write whenever I do get ideas.</p><p>Also part III is in the works, so yay.<br/> </p><p>Doing extra research has been entertaining and I adore the world of this game, so I'm tryna put in that extra bit of effort to describe different elements to the game that may go unheard of, so whoops!!</p><p> </p><p>Noctis is a large factor in deciding personality for his dad. Like I’ve said before, I believe he had to get his attitude and personality from somewhere, so I’ve tried contributing that here a little since we got pretty much nothing.</p><p> </p><p> I am also strongly resisting the urge to write self-loathing comments about my writing here.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks for reading, whoever's here ^_^.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. PART III and Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Interlude.</p><p>
  <em>"Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus.<br/>
Now I am dead,<br/>
Now I am fled,<br/>
My soul is in the sky."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"What are your names? Can you understand me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One of them looks up at him, with his eyes confused and dark. He looks as if he's seen enough to last him a lifetime, and it seems like he acknowledges that he's being talked to, though perhaps he's too young to fully process.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other buries himself further in the prince's grasp, continuing to cry and tremble.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"That answers that," he mutters beneath his breath.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hey," a quiet voice has him almost immediately on his feet, blade summoned to his hand. He hears the ground rumble as several feet close in on his location.</em>
</p><p> <em>"Whoa! No need for that, it's only us."</em></p><p>
  <em>"You all nearly gave me a heart attack," the prince clicks his tongue in dismay at the arrival of his retinue, all battered and exhausted, same as himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Are these two survivors?" His shield directs the question at him with a indistinguishable glint in his eye.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes, and I'm going to get them somewhere safe," he replies, no further consideration involved.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Let's move," Cid beckons the party over with a wave of his arm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For a brief moment while he's running, his heart feels just as out of place as his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And he doesn't want this. He doesn't want to do this. Is it possible he can just relinquish his name in power and blood of magic to someone less fortunate than he is? Lucian magic be damned. A cursed name for a cursed bloodline is all it will ever be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boys who he later finds out are called Nyx Ulric and Libertus Ostium, they are not related. Their families were refugees from Galahd, but none have survived besides the sole expections that are the two of them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His highness will try and remember, or rather, refuse to forget, the accounted weight in his arms of only two boys. Two young children, who have lost everything near and dear to them simply because of a menace that is called war.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He will be duly reminded to keep them alive, under his oath as the future one hundred and thirteenth king of Lucis.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The Accordo Protectorate has been held under partial imperial standing for over a century. It's still it's own independent piece of land, no doubt without a ruler to hail over kind company, and it's indisputably free in its lawmaking and use of foreign policy. </p><p>Though, it was annexed by the imperials about a hundred and fifty years ago, and still retains an assembly of foreign diplomats from the empire.</p><p>It's almost always spoken of in the highest regards, and has become quite the fancied tourist attraction due to its beautiful waters.</p><p>Sailing over the water has been rather enjoyable, and the prince has gotten used to seeing blue for so long, that when the city on the water finally appears in his vision, he's practically at a loss for words.</p><p>There's far too much to observe even with the keenest eyes; every solidified structure towering up through the water is detailed with motifs, and not to mention the abundance of canals and waterfalls that leave a welcoming sprinkle of mist on any sightseer's face.</p><p>It's beauty certainly does rival that of Insomnia, maybe even by a longshot. Dull greys and dark golds seem so insignificant in comparison to the bright blue hues of the water.</p><p>Cid announces their arrival with a cheer as he helps steer the vessel to the dock. The atmosphere is overwhelmingly different, even from that of Caem. Everyone including the young Leonis is left in awe.</p><p>They can all feel sympathetic for the youngest at times, reminded that he's gone through a literal hell at such a tender age. But this is different, and now Cor seems to be more relaxed and a tad bit as excited as the rest of them for the first time since departure.</p><p>In the blink of an eye, the immigration process subsides easily, and the party of five arrive in a a square filled with an abundance of benevolent citizens and foreigners alike. The ambience of the city is contradicting compared to that of Lucis, and already the inevitable restlessness from traveling settles in, making it <em>that</em> much harder to think.</p><p>Getting through to any navigation of sorts proves effortless, since Cid has quite a way with words when it comes to the locals (especially those with titles to their names— no respect in the slightest).</p><p>While standing around in waiting and surveying the maps of the city, the prince nearly falls over after stumbling backwards; a young woman in a hat pushes past him with great speed. She's lost to the crowd shortly afterward, headed in the direction of what seems to be the renowned Estate.</p><p>He disregards it and just barely follows the four ahead of him with a heavy mind and shorter strides, quickly getting left behind. </p><p>Each and every possible occurence plays in his mind of just how easily this is going to get fucked up. He can't help but feel that in one way or another, the outcome will not be in their favor, and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.</p><p>All it takes is a mindless distraction— a slip up— or an unavoidable dilemma for his plans, or rather, his <em>father's</em> plans, to go awry.</p><p>"I really think we should ask about our lodgings first," Wesk interjects in the ensemble, pulling the young royal out of his endlessly flowing thoughts.</p><p>"The hell do we need to do that for? There's still daylight," the eldest shakes his head in discontentment. "If y'all are tired, go on ahead, but I want somethin' to eat. I'm starving."</p><p>"Cor, are you hungry?" Clarus turns to the youngest that barely manages to conceal a nod of his head before Weskham turns in his direction with a raised brow.</p><p>"That settles that," Cid barks out a laugh, marching off with the others in the direction of an Altissian restaurant. </p><p>It appears that they'd need to travel by foot for most of the attractions in the State, and Weskham already feels the dread weighing in (<em>to stay</em>) for the remainder of the evening, since helplessly trailing behind the others after losing this fight.</p><p>"What say you, highness?" Weskham turns to the prince with an easy smile.</p><p>"Oh," he's stopped for an answer just short of actually listening into the conversation. He looks away ashamedly, no idea in his right mind as to what they were even on about after hearing Wesk mention <em>logdings.</em></p><p>Weskham sighs, as he does often when speaking to his highness. After a moment, "Just, don't worry about it," is all he says with a smile, and then he catches up to Clarus, leaving Regis his time to be alone.</p><p>At least that much, he can be grateful for.</p><p>With his father's untimely pledge to initiate and advance in a war, a reforged alliance hanging in the balance at his own hands, and his own current mental state withering with every decision, it isn't like he's trying to be as morose as he's becoming.</p><p>A hand waves him out of his thoughts, but at first he can't say he even implicitly notices.</p><p>"You aren't even listening to me."</p><p>"I'm sorry," is the only thing he formulates in time before the older briefly tugs at his wrist. "Er, what was it that you were saying?"</p><p>The look he gets from his shield tells him this isn't the first time that this has happened today, and <em>so, maybe he knows that.</em></p><p>It definitely won't be the last either. </p><p>"Well, I was <em>saying</em> we should go find somewhere to sit. Like, to eat something? There's people <em>everywhere,</em> and I think we all need to get a spot now if we actually want to eat anything."</p><p>The younger glances briefly at the others reading the menu and figures it'll be awhile before they even get to eating. "Right, okay," he nods his head and lets himself be pulled along by the other.</p><p>Dinner takes about an hour and a half of the evening; easy conversations and demonstrations of joy. Finding a lodging requires about another hour in total. </p><p>So two and a half hours later into the night, they manage to settle into the acclaimed Leville, despite the hefty pricetag eating up a portion of their recent well-earned savings from hunting in the Cleigne region.</p><p>While it's also not an easy feat, striking down a few of the empire's new bases here and there in Lucian regions has given them a few extra gil, perhaps to make up for the expenditures of the trip.</p><p>From then on, they've called out to reinforcements from the crowncity, and they have been under his highness's command ever since.</p><p>But Accordo is a nice break from ordering people around, and it's another small win that they're able to get such soft beds after some time now.</p><p>The space is a lot more generous than the places they've previously been to. The room is furnished with a scenery infinitely more colorful than that of the Citadel's dark greys and golds.</p><p>The prince is knocked out as soon as his frame hits the bed, and Cid is lying down on the bed across the room. Weskham partakes in a card game with the youngest, settling a debt over their dinner from earlier.</p><p>Clarus winds down in the middle of a novel and shuts it unceremoniously when there's an urgent knocking at their room door.</p><p>The shield looks over to the others who are awake in question, catching their uncertain eyes, unable to decide whether or not they should answer, considering just how late in the night it would be for company.</p><p>Eventually they agree on answering, reluctantly stirring their sleeping highness awake.</p><p>The advisor answers the door.</p><p>"Ah yes, this must be the right room," a young woman says. She has light hair and is rather short. Her attire says enough for Weskham to infer who it is she may be. "Good evening," she says.</p><p>"Well, to what do we owe the company...?" Wesk waits for an introduction.</p><p>"You must be the retinue in waiting," she responds with a pleased grin. "My name is Camelia Claustra. My mother is the current secretary of Accordo, and I happen to work against a common enemy of ours," she extends her hand.</p><p>Weskham shakes it, and then steps backward so that she can see the five of them equally.</p><p>"I heard you'll all be heading over to the Estate in a few days, isn't that right?"</p><p>"That is the plan, yes."</p><p>Camelia goes rigid for a second from the sound of the voice before nodding her head, "Where are my manners? You must be the crown prince himself," she says consciously.</p><p>"It's nice to meet you, Miss Claustra," he greets her with a courteous smile.</p><p>"Pleasure's all mine. Now, I hate to intrude on you all this late, but I'd like to propose a favor and escort you all in a few days time. I know this city better than anyone, after all," she explains.</p><p>"That's quite nice of you," the prince nods his head in acceptance. "We would certainly appreciate the help."</p><p>"Good. My mother is expecting the five of you soon, so you may want to get some rest and enjoy the sights of the city for now. I should expect to see you all around," she says before she takes off.</p><p>Weskham shuts and relocks the door, a sleepy grin taking over his lips. "She's right about getting some rest for right now."</p><p>"That is what I was doing," the young royal points out before settling himself back on his claimed bed.</p><p>"Well, that was unexpected," Cid muses over the situation. "Least we get some help in this damn maze— even from the daughter of a secretary."</p><p>"I recognize her as the one I ran into earlier today. When we first got here," Regis adds.</p><p>"More like she ran into you," the youngest suggests with a laugh.</p><p>"You're not wrong there," the shield adds. "Now, I think we <em>all</em> should get some sleep. We might be up early tomorrow to go sightseeing or something. Lights out."</p><p>And with that, they finally sleep.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The next few days they spend admiring the sights of the stunning city, bumbling about as they take in the picturesque scenery around them. They make sure to take plenty of photos as well as participate in whatever attractions they can, in complete opposition of the youngest.</p><p>However, like with everything else so far, Cor eventually finds comfort in joining the rest of them in their activities.</p><p>They meet with Camelia a few times, and she's delighted to learn more about the history of the two nations. She eagerly presents to them the work she's been putting into her <em>anti-establishment movement</em> in the city, and they applaud her for her efforts towards reforging the alliance.</p><p>They head out to fish in some of the favorited local hotspots, and the calm evenings are spent refueling in the Leville.</p><p>It really does feel like a vacation, and it's difficult to pretend that it isn't one.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>When the prince dreams, it's of gunfire and barriers of blue; weapons clashing repeatedly in a never-ending storm of chaos, and his father looking at him with such a brutal, fading glare.</p><p>He dreams, too, of the smiles from strangers in Lucis, <em>his own kingdom of kindly citizens;</em> the ache of his muscles after traveling on foot for a hunt, and the cool breezes by the ocean surrounding Caem. The warmth of the sun defeating any qualms he has.</p><p>Though, in an instant, everything meshes together in an apprehensive whirl, and it makes him slightly nauseous, even in his sleep.</p><p>A foreboding tension; and he hears the screams of soldiers, asking <em>why they had to die for this.</em></p><p>
  <em>Some king you'll be.</em>
</p><p>The voices blend, incoherent and unsettling, and then everything goes white.</p><p>He's woken up by the sound of urgent yet distant shouts.</p><p>
  <em>"...wake him up, now! Will ya?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We need to leave... important... need to be... soon."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"When did... find out? How long...call them?"</em>
</p><p>Disquieting enough, when he comes to, it's with a throb in his skull and a sore throat.</p><p>"Hey, c'mon," his shield has a hand on his shoulder, shaking it slightly. "We need to go, right now."</p><p><em>"What, why?</em> Is something wrong?"</p><p>He's then thrown his jacket, and a bottle of water that he hardly manages to catch as he rises from the bed.</p><p>Weskham glances at Clarus before shaking his head. "We'll explain on the way, okay? Get ready quickly, and I'll meet you outside. Cid and Cor are already downstairs."</p><p>The advisor leaves.</p><p>Regis frowns in confusion, forcing himself to remember if anything peculiar had happened the night before, but he can't think of a single damned thing.</p><p>"Hey, it's alright. Just come downstairs when you're ready. We'll explain everything—"</p><p>"No, I think I need to know if something's happened," the prince looks sternly at the other. "Tell me what's wrong."</p><p>Maybe he's just still overwhelmed with the loss of extra sleep, or maybe he's just feeling more uneasy now that his friends all seem to be panicking for some unknown reason. </p><p>It's quite obvious that this isn't a normal, expected awakening, and it happens to be very alarming that no one's told him anything. <em>Still.</em></p><p>Clarus sighs heavily, rubbing his hands down his face in surrender. "Apparently last night, the empire's been informed that we're here. And now they're asking for a fight that we aren't even ready for. We're going back."</p><p>Sucking in a strained breath, his highness takes a moment longer to think. "We have the reinforcements. But why so sudden? I didn't even get to speak with the secretary—"</p><p>"I know," his shield chews at his lip in distress. "But I don't think that's going to happen anymore. We're leaving before they destroy any more towns or take any more innocent lives. We have to."</p><p>"We're just going to fend them off until we can get back home? That's the only logical thing to do?" the younger questions. "This won't solve or end anything..."</p><p>"We need to learn of their intentions and try to protect the people, Regis," Clarus corrects him. "Get dressed and be down in five, okay?"</p><p>The small pause in the room that follows suit allows the prince to hear the commotion from the others outside.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>This is <em>hell.</em></p><p>The first stop they make on the way back home: a town is blazing, and everything is broken. The buildings, <em>houses, the people.</em></p><p>For a split second, the prince falters with shock before giving out orders, but then rushes into the town and plunges a blade straight through the metallic heart of a magitek soldier. He does so again, <em>again, and again,</em> with accuracy and precision and a dreading sense of urgency.</p><p>This is not a game. This is hell.</p><p>People are sprinting past him and their screams are piercing through his ears, but he continues to take out the suits of metal one by one, without taking a break. Without remembering to breathe. No hesitation.</p><p>No time, no time, no time.</p><p>He stabs through one, dodges another. Stabs one, dodges another. Rince, repeat. <em>Stay alive.</em></p><p>Perhaps he realizes too late that he's wheezing from the smoke— the aftermath— but then there are two small children clinging to his leg, and he nearly collapses over from the lack of air before pulling them away to a safer location.</p><p>The two boys are both sobbing, but there isn't much he can do, not really. So he instinctually picks them up, managing to carry all the weight, and he settles behind whatever's left of an old home. It's a brick wall covered in soot, though sturdy enough so that it won't break over them.</p><p>He breathes, holding the boys tighter as he waits. <em>But what is he waiting for?</em></p><p>He thinks. <em>He thinks of what's happening.</em></p><p>They're farther south of a place called <em>Galahd,</em> where the imperial devils have unkindly invited themselves in. The city is burning and the heavy aroma of blood is overwhelming. Citizens are being slaughtered, and he doesn't know what to do. <em>He doesn't know what to do.</em></p><p>
  <em>Should he stay here? He needs to keep these kids alive. He can't let them die. But his friends are out there, and they need him. They need help.</em>
</p><p>He breathes, waits, thinks.</p><p>Worry is blanketed by impulse, and when he hears the clattering noise of metal bodies approaching, he earns the title of <em>the swordsman who surpasses the skill even that of the founder king.</em></p><p>To this there is no end, but the war may just be his new beginning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I apologize if there are errors in here. I wanted to get it out sooner than I did the last chapter. &gt;_&lt;</p><p>So I've found more interesting bits of information to do with this game, which honestly doesn't cease to surprise me at this point.</p><p>I was researching Galahd, which for reference, the name itself comes from the Arthurian period of history, and I found that both Noctis and Regis were rumored to be inspired from the legend kings Pellam and Pelles respectively, and that's pretty interesting.</p><p>I also made sure to put in this chapter the fact that Regis was said in his storyline to have been an amazing swordfighter who even rivals that of Somnus. That's insane! Because usually it's a stereotype that the *main* protagonist of a story is the strongest warrior/fighter, and I think it's cool that they chose to note that about our boy's character.</p><p>One last thing— anyone who looks up quotes in any of my writing pieces would know that I happen to quote some of my favorite Shakespeare lines often. In this case, I chose lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream ^.^</p><p>Anyways, enough nerding out about this game and whatnot... I hope whoever reads this enjoys it. c:</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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